


Mirrors

by possiblyfictional



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, basically just one long conversation, sam is so dramatic my diddly darn gosh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6450058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyfictional/pseuds/possiblyfictional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“'You know what? I might just keep you awake when I kill Dean, you know? Call me sadistic, but I think that grief is a good look on you. I mean, the universe surely seems to think so.'”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I saw a post where editors were talking about things they hated about first pages of a story, and one woman (bless your soul, Suzie) saying she couldn’t stand having the main character talking to themselves in the mirror. So, like the fucker I am, I decided I’d spite this Suzie.

“You know what? I might just keep you awake when I kill Dean, you know? Call me sadistic, but I think that grief is a good look on you. I mean, the universe surely seems to think so."

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Well, I have your body now. I don’t think you’d be down for me ‘fucking myself’ using your own-”

“Just shut up, Lucifer.”

“Oh, Sammy, you know I don’t take orders. I just make them.”

Sam glares from the other side of the mirror as Lucifer smirks, wearing the Winchester’s body like he’s owned it since the dawn of time.

Maybe he has.

“I don’t understand what more you want from me. I’ve already said yes to you. You have your true vessel or whatever. While you wait for the final blow-out between you and Michael, you can just destroy the world. Why are you even bothering with me?”

“Oh, Sam, don’t you understand? An angel and their true vessel’s soul are literally made for each other. You’re my other half. How could I ignore you?”

Sam looks away from the mirror, turning his back to the archangel celebrating in his misery. Tendrils of heavenly grace, burnt from the great fall from Heaven to Hell, whispers through the glass separating Sam’s consciousness from Lucifer’s. He breathes in, and he imagines he can feel Lucifer’s Grace riding the air into his lungs, tainting him from the inside out like cigarette smoke.

He can’t feel its presence. But he wishes he could.

“It’s really easy to ignore the other voice in someone’s head. I mean, your lack of decent morals is shocking. I’m not surprised if it just up and left.”

“But Sammy, dear, do you still want to feel the need for mercy when you see your own hands strangling Bobby?”

A silence. Sam still doesn’t turn to look at the archangel. Really, he finds angels are more like parasites than they think they are. They need another body to destroy to keep themselves going. They leech off everything that the body can give them, until it’s burned out and the angel has to move on.

They kill without mercy, all under the guise of “It’s for the best, this is how it goes. This is what the universe planned.”

“I still don’t see your point. Had you no mercy, you’d already have killed Michael. Or his vessels.”

“Good point, Sammykins, but I love to play with my prey before I kill it. You know what I mean, don’t you? You do it all the time with Dean. You pretend it’s all okay while you’re playing with fire, and you don’t come to him until there’s no saving you from the flames. Or, the other way around. You see, Sam, you and Dean play cat-and-mouse, disregarding the poison both of you ingested. In the end, I never lied about my intentions. I was never dishonest. Every death I’ve caused was justified. It all helped my plans.”

Sam inhales more smoke, and he can sense Lucifer is against the mirror, his hand on the glass.

“You, on the other hand, can’t justify a large amount of the beings you’ve killed. I mean, you’ve been the cause of death of a thousand innocents, although ‘innocent’ is relative. I’m in your head, you can’t deny this. It keeps you up at night, doesn’t it? All that guilt, all that man pain. It just kills you. Jess still haunts you, doesn’t she? I mean, technically, you killed her before she-”

“Don’t you _dare_  talk about Jess. She doesn’t deserve her name ruined by you speaking it,” Sam breaks, whirling around and striding toward the glass, slamming his hands into it. He wants _out_. Now.

Alas, he has to wait for the right moment. If it ever comes around.

Lucifer barks a sharp laugh, leaning a shoulder against the mirror. “Feisty, Sam. I like that.”

Sam tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, forcefully slamming into the glass again. if he can break the mirror, he can escape. He can win.

Not the right moment.

Inhale. Exhale.

Sam thinks about how the flames that singed Lucifer’s Grace would become his home, his kingdom. He smiles at that, just barely, full of hatred. The bitter taste of fear lingers on his tongue.

Lucifer laughs at his reflection as the thought crosses Sam’s mind. Sam watches his reflection choke on his own smoldering grace.

The grace whispers into a smoky circlet around their heads. One reflection smiles, and the other realizes he’ll never escape the window, the mirror, the small line that divides himself and the Morningstar.


End file.
